


Apartment 512

by earthseraph



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Latino!Bucky, M/M, This Is Self Indulgent Sap, latinx author, quinceañera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthseraph/pseuds/earthseraph
Summary: “I fucked up, Nat.” Bucky groans,.Natasha looks him up and down, “What happened? I don’t see any physical evidence from your fuck up."“I told my mom I was dating someone I’m actually not dating and now he has to go to the quince with me.”“Who’d you say you were dating?”“Steve,” Bucky says, hitting his head against the plush bag of pee pads.Or: The one where Bucky's mom is overbearing, Bucky and Steve have to fake it until they make it at a quinceanera, and Selena saves the day.





	Apartment 512

**Author's Note:**

> I saw something that made me need to write Latinx!Bucky so here we are. 
> 
> Some notes:
> 
> James Buchanan Barnes = Jamie Buchanan Granero (because that's as close to a literal translation as I could get) who here is fancast as Santiago Cabrera
> 
> Miss Granero (Bucky's mom) is fancast as Rita Moreno
> 
> Becca Granero is fancast as Ana de la Reguera
> 
> The title of this fic comes from El Chicho Del Apartamento 512 by Selena, if you've never heard her music you're missing out. 
> 
> Huge disclaimer: I am Latinx, this comes from my experience as a Latinx not anyone else's. Also, I gave up on accents half way through this fic because I'm lazy.

Bucky smiles when the caller ID pops up on his phone, swiping across the screen before sticking the phone between his ear and shoulder. 

“Hey mom,” He says, accidentally taking a deep inhale of steam from the pasta boiling, “what’s up?”

“I can’t call my son for no reason?” 

He hears her mutter something similar to _pinche mamón_ and rolls his eyes at the curse of endearment, “You know you can call me whenever you want, but I know _La Rosa De Guadalupe_ is on soon and you never call before then. So, what’s up?” 

He has his mom’s routine down to a T, so it could be one of three ‘D’s: Divorce, death, or drama. All of which are on equal footing in his mom’s eyes. 

“I was talking to Becca,” She starts and now Bucky knows this conversation can be pushed along into the Drama category. Any time she calls him to talk about his older sister there’s some sort of drama involved, “and she mentioned that you might bring a plus one to the quince.”

Bucky sighs, moving around the pasta with a plastic spoon, “What about it?” In all honesty, Bucky forgot to even look for someone to date just so they could go to the quince with him. He’s been too caught up in work, the dance steps he has to remember, and remembering to eat three times a day.

“You know I’m not young anymore, mijo, I just want to know when you’re going to bring a nice boy home for me to meet.” She sighs dramatically and Bucky can imagine her sitting with a hand draped over her forehead, as if her son’s love life is the most important thing in the universe, “I’ve accepted that you’re not going to give me grandkids-“

Bucky rolls his eyes, not about to list the ways he could bring kids into this family if he wanted to. 

“-so the least you can do is bring a good boy home.”

At this point, Bucky’s just annoyed. While there are ways to have kids that don’t include a heterosexual relationship, Bucky doesn’t want them. He’s told his mom time and time again that kids just aren’t for him. And now the _least_ he can do is bring a guy home? 

Bucky stands up a little straighter, plastic spoon still in hand, “I was gonna let it be a surprise, and wait until the quince, but since you asked yes I am bringing someone.”

The gasp his mom makes over the phone is as if she just heard the best news in the world, “Do I know him?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky replies, not confident in his answer at all. He has to flip through his mental rolodex of guys that would be potential good boyfriends, guys he has to pretend to date for a weekend. It’s as if his body is taken over by some ethereal sprit because the next thing he knows he’s saying: “Steve. We started dating a few weeks back and were taking it slow.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets them. Not because he doesn’t like Steve, no, but because he likes Steve a little too much. And by a little too much: he would marry Steve and run away to Canada if that’s what Steve wanted.

“Steve!” His mom exclaims, “Steve is such a good man, you need to bring him over again.”

Bucky pinches between his eyebrows, trying to move past the oncoming headache, “Yeah, Steve’s dying for more arroz con leche.”

His mom sighs dreamily into the phone, “Aye mijo, you did well for yourself. I can’t wait to officially meet him at the quince as your boyfriend.” 

“Thanks ma,” Bucky smiles slightly, if he wanted to he could live in this fake dream land of him actually dating Steve and his mom being proud, “he’s excited to let everyone know we’ve made our relationship official, too.” 

“Well I have to go,” His mom says, happiness evident in her voice, “but I’d love to hear more about him later!”

Bucky just wants the universe to swallow him whole, “We can talk again before the quince, see you ma.”

With that Bucky ends the call, setting his phone down on the counter next to him. He looks at the rubbery mess that has become his noodles and sighs, turning off the burner. 

What did he just do?

* * *

Bucky barely registers there’s another person in the apartment with him until the couch dips. 

“What’re you watching?” Steve asks, and the butterflies in Bucky’s stomach become a fluttery mess. 

Bucky looks at Steve from the corner of his eye. He’s rumpled from work, hair going each and every way, and looks so freakin’ perfect Bucky doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“Our Planet,” Bucky responds instead of waxing poetry about Steve’s blue eyes, “new Netflix special.”

Steve just hums in response, settling into the couch and hugging one of the throw pillows to his chest. 

The silence, even with the narration from Our Planet on, is deafening, “How was work?”

“Good,” Steve shrugs, “all the nurses are catching a cold and I’m worried I’m next.”

“Zinc?” Bucky offers, “Vapo rub?” 

Steve snorts, looking over at Bucky with a raised eyebrow, “How many times do we have to go over the lack of medical benefits from vapo rub?” 

Bucky just rolls his eyes, “Look, abuelita said it cures cancer and as far as I’m concerned it does just that.” He has distinct memories of vapo rub being slathered on his chest and soles of his feet the moment he so much as sniffled. He’s never questioned how much it actually works and he’s not about to now. 

Steve laughs, deep and warm, “I will take the zinc, thank you.”

They fall into another bout of silence, but this time it’s comfortable. Bucky knows he needs to let Steve know what’s down the road for them. He just needs them to fake date until the quince and then they can break it off after. Sure, he’ll need a good excuse for them to break it off and keep living together but he can cross that bridge when they get there. 

Another slight snag is how Bucky actually feels. He wants to date Steve, ever since he answered the ad to move into apartment 512 he’s felt something for him. At first it was just lust because Steve looks like a background Spartan from 300. Then it was a little crush because Steve’s the sweetest person on the planet that don’t take anyone’s shit including Bucky’s. Now, almost a year into living with him he’s full blown in love with the guy and pretending to date him may just break Bucky. 

“Are you still going to the quince?” Bucky asks, figuring he might as well get it over with now. 

Steve blinks, obviously focused on the documentary playing on the TV, “You know I wouldn’t miss a Granero family gathering, I made sure to get the weekend off.”

Of all the white people Bucky knows, Steve was the one to catch on to Mexican culture like fire. And not just that taco Tuesday shit, either. Bucky’s family _adore_ Steve, and Steve adores them right back. Carne asada Sundays, drunk singing to Vicente Fernández, dealing with abuelita’s mal de ojo treatments? Steve does it all. Heart open, ready to learn about a culture constantly appropriated and stepped on. He’s the family’s resident Gabacho, but only they’re allowed to call him that.

Bucky nods slowly and takes in a deep breath, he breaths out in a steady stream, steeling himself, “Just letting you know they might think we’re dating.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, eyes widening, “They might—what?”

“I may have told my mom we’re dating,” Bucky says, the words coming out jumbled together. He takes in another deep breath and shifts on the couch so he’s looking at Steve directly, “You know how my mom is.”

Steve makes a face as if he’s walking on thin ice, “Your mom can be… over bearing.” 

“My mom _is_ over bearing. Full stop,” Bucky grabs Steve’s shoulders, looking him directly in the eyes, “look just pretend for this one night and we can go back to the way it was before.” 

Something akin to a flush crosses Steve’s face but Bucky writes it off as a reflection from the TV, “Just for the quince?” 

The way Steve asks it breaks Bucky’s heart just a little, like he can deal with being Bucky’s pretend boyfriend but for one night only. Any more than that would be a deal breaker, “Just the one night and then everything goes back to before.”

Meaning: Bucky pines over Steve while swiping at uninteresting guys on Tinder. 

“Deal,” Steve nods, getting the look on his face that’s usually saved for clogged sinks and flat bike tires, “I will be the best quince date your family has ever seen.”

Bucky grins, “Thank you so much Steve, I owe you big time.” He squeezes Steve’s shoulders once before dropping his hands, leaning himself back on the couch. 

Steve in return just gives him a small smile before pushing himself up from the cushions, “I’m gross, I’m going to shower.”

“Yeah, go, but seriously Steve,” Bucky holds Steve’s gaze as he moves towards the hallway, “thank you.”

Steve nods, ducking his head, “Any time.”

And, boy, does Bucky wish that were true. He wishes he could ask Steve to pretend to be his boyfriend every day of the week until it became true. He wishes that Steve could feel the tiniest bit the same about him. That Steve could just give him one night, one moment where they’re in a real relationship together, so that he could move on from what might be to what will never happen. 

It’s bitter sweet, this arrangement, and what’s worse is that it was all his idea.

* * *

“I fucked up, Nat.” Bucky groans, “We have enough pee pads, by the way.” 

Natasha looks him up and down, “What happened? I don’t see any physical evidence from your fuck up. Do we have enough milk formula?”

Bucky looks around the storage room, eyes scanning over the boxes, “I told my mom I was dating someone I’m actually not dating and now he has to go to the quince with me.” Bucky squats, trying to look for the box of formula. 

“Who’d you say you were dating?” 

“Steve,” Bucky says, hitting his head against the plush bag of pee pads, “there’s four boxes of formula.” 

Natasha kicks his shin, “Don’t dent the pee pads, what did they do to deserve your head whacking into them. I also don’t see the problem here, Steve would be fine with going to the quince with you. He’s the type of guy that pretends he’s a random girl’s boyfriend when a someone’s being creepy with them.”

Bucky stops trying to bash his brains in with the bag of pee pads and turns to look up at Natasha, “I have a crush on him the size of the moon, Nat.”

She just frowns down at him, “Why don’t you get your head out of your ass and ask him on a real date, then?” 

This is why Bucky loves Natasha with his entire soul. She takes no shit, gives no shit, but would kill a man for wronging her friend in an instant. Bucky, on the other hand, is full of shit and knows it, “Because he’ll either let me down gently or take me on a pity date.” 

Natasha just eyes him like she’s in on a secret he’s not privy to, but that’s how she looks at most people.

“Men,” She says with a shake of her head, “how are we on flea medication?” 

Bucky pushes himself up off the floor, dusting his pants off, “You know you love men.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, “I love _some_ men. Men in general? Could live without.”

“You got me there,” Bucky nods, “some men just suck. Like Steve, him and his stunning face and beautiful personality suck.” 

Natasha snorts, something she only does around a select few people, “The only thing Steve sucks—”

“Don’t say it!” Bucky cuts her off, “I’m in a fragile state, don’t remind me what he does and does not suck.” 

She grins in response, “Did you find the flea meds?”

* * *

“I don’t know what to wear,” Steve says, walking into the kitchen with an empty bowl, “what does someone wear when they’re pretending to be a boyfriend?”

Bucky looks Steve up and down, mostly because in this moment he’s allowed. Steve could wear sweatpants and a t-shirt and he’d still look like a model, “Nice button down and slacks?” Bucky offers, trying to be a bit helpful. 

Steve leans against the counter, bowl still in hand, “Is that enough for the quince? I know you guys go all decked out,” Steve motions to his head and feet, “I know you have a pair of boots all shined up and a nice hat, I don’t want to look like I didn’t try in comparison.”

That is true. Bucky’s got a deep grey Stetson waiting to grace his head, and some ridiculously priced boots that his mom bought him still in their box in his closet. Can’t blame him for Latinos and their outrageous fashion choices, “That’s true, but I’m one of the main chambelanes. My niece is dancing with her little boyfriend first and then me in the place of her dad,” Bucky leaves out the ‘good for nothing’ part, but he knows Steve gets the point, “So I gotta’ look my best next to her.” His tie matches the bright turquoise of her dress, and he’s got a belt in the same color. Again, can’t blame him for Latinos and their fashion choices. 

Steve frowns, “You know all your cousins’ wives are going dolled up to the nines.”

Bucky waves the bean masher at Steve, “That’s because they’re all envidiosa and trying to out-do each other.”

Steve’s frown grows, “Then shouldn’t I be trying to outdo them?” 

Bucky gives Steve a _really_ look, “The moment they set their eyes on you they’ll be wondering how quickly they can divorce their husbands.”

“Would you divorce your husband for me?” Steve asks, curiosity piquing his voice.

A flush spreads across Bucky’s face but he holds his ground, not about to fold in front of Steve, “If I saw you all dolled up for a quince I’d be pulling up an online divorce website.”

Steve just snorts, ducking his head, “Careful, don’t wanna boost my ego too much.”

Bucky always wonders how Steve doesn’t see how attractive he is. When he looks in the mirror how doesn’t he notice that he looks like a freakin model? Sleep rumpled, dirty from a long day at the hospital, sweaty after the gym are times most people look their worst. Steve, though, always looks great. Maybe that’s just because Bucky’s head over heels for the guy, either way Steve is the most attractive person he knows. 

“Everyone’s ego needs a little stroking every now and then,” Bucky shrugs turning back to his beans, “to answer your question, though, wear a turquoise button down to match the quince, and those boots you never put on.”

“Now I gotta’ find a turquoise button down,” Steve says with a sigh, “Thanks, Buck, I just wanna’ impress your family.”

For a moment, Bucky wonders why Steve cares so much. As much as Bucky wants it to be real, it’s not. They’re not actually dating, they’re going to have a pretend break up, it’s just going to be one night to get a taste of what Bucky’s always dreamed of and that’s it. Then he remembers that Steve never half-asses anything. Steve’s either completely in, or he’s completely out, so Steve’s going to do his best to make his family fall in love with their relationship—no matter how fake it is. 

Bucky shrugs in response, not looking over at Steve in fear that his eyes will give away everything he’s feeling, “They already love you, all you have to do is be yourself and you’ll have all of them wrapped around your little finger.”

Nothing he said was a lie. Bucky’s family is head over heels for their affectionally-nicknamed Resident Gabacho. They love hearing about Steve’s stories as a nurse and want to feed him every type of Mexican food he hasn’t tried yet. He’s invited to all the asadas, all the rosca de reyes, all the quinces, even though Bucky’s only known him for this short year. His family crammed themselves into Apartment 512 and threw Steve the loudest, most ethnically heterogeneous birthday party that this side of New York’s ever seen. They’d kill for Steve, burn bridges for him. Abuelita has tried teaching Steve and Sarah how to make tamales, and that’s not a class that just anyone’s offered. His family loves Steve just as much as Bucky does, and it hit him just now that what if they hate him after they “break up”? 

Bucky’s stomach falls at that, the bacon greased beans in front of him no longer looking appetizing. 

“You good, Buck?” Steve asks gently. 

Bucky looks up from the beans, surprised at how much closer Steve is to him, only just noticing the warm hand on his arm, “Yeah, fine, just remembered we have a bunch of spays and neuters tomorrow.”

Steve searches Bucky’s eyes, as if looking for a hole in Bucky’s story, but pulls back when he finds nothing, “Okay, you’d let me know if something was up, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky reassures, resting his free hand atop Steve’s where it rests on his arm, “of course, I’m just caught up in my own head. You know how it goes.” He gives Steve the most reassuring smile he can muster, and thankfully it works. 

Steve nods, taking a step back and pulling his hand away from Bucky’s arm, “I’ll be in my room, knock if you need anything.”

Bucky watches as Steve sets his bowl in the sink. He can tell that he didn’t convince Steve as much as he thought, but there’s not much he can do about that without revealing too much. 

He looks down at his beans and shuts the burner off. 

He misses the warmth from Steve’s hand on his arm.

* * *

Bucky could die right now and he’d be happy. 

He’s already at the quince hall, practicing with his niece and the rest of the court. 

With Steve’s schedule at the hospital they couldn’t come together and he’s been waiting all night to see Steve in that one size too small turquoise shirt. 

His prayers have been answered, and Bucky’s ready to meet Saint Peter at the pearly gates. 

Steve walks into the hall looking lost and confused and so damn hot Bucky has to remind himself he’s in front of family. 

“Shit Bucky!” His niece yells over the loud music, “Me encantan!”

Bucky elbows her gently, not wanting to mess up any of the body shimmer she has on her arms, “He’s mine, you got your own boy.” Getting to say that, claim ownership over Steve no matter how false, lights a fire in Bucky’s gut. 

“Miles!” He yells over the music, “Entertain your girlfriend before she tries to steal my boyfriend.”

He waves over at Steve, and quickly walks away from the court. Steve’s got all eyes on him, teen girls who’ve probably never seen someone as hot as Steve in person and boys that are probably having their first gay experience. 

Bucky grins at Steve as he walks closer to him, “You clean up nice, Rogers.”

Steve just grins back, opening his arms and doing a slow circle, “Got some help from Natasha, so can’t take all the credit.”

Bucky takes slight advantage of the situation, resting his hands on Steve’s hips while he looks up at him. They talked about this before, it doesn’t need to be more than close contact, hand holding, and dancing. If someone’s uncomfortable they’ll start talking about the humidity, a safe-word of sorts. 

“I can feel everyone’s eyes on me,” Steve says, hooking his fingers in the loops of Bucky’s pants and pulling him closer. 

Bucky follows the movement, letting Steve take the lead of their physical interaction, taking whatever Steve will give him, “Of course, you’re supposed to be my boyfriend and they’re all nosy fuckers.”

“Chismosas?” Steve asks, the word sounding foreign and thick on Steve’s tongue. 

“Exactly,” Bucky grins back, the slang word for gossiper in Spanish has to be his favorite, “taught you well.”

The smile on Steve’s face at getting the word right is dazzling, “I’m gonna kiss you, okay?”

Bucky opens his mouth to tell Steve he doesn’t have to, they don’t have to put the act on that hard, but then Steve’s lips are touching his and all he can do is lean into the kiss. It’s nothing hot or steamy, a PG-13 press of the lips, but it’s everything Bucky’s dreamed of. His lips buzz when Steve pulls away, and he hopes he isn’t imagining the genuine smile on Steve’s lips.

“How ‘bout you parade me around to your family?”

It takes Bucky a moment to come back down from Saint Peter’s pearly gates but when he does, he just nods dumbly. He takes a step back from Steve, reaching his hand out and nods to where all the adults have congregated in the corner, “Come on, I bet everyone’s dying to see you again.”

As they walk over Bucky has to push down the swarm of butterflies that erupt in his stomach. It’s just his family, they all know and love Steve, and it’s not like they’re really dating anyways. 

A chorus of HOLA GÜEY comes from all the men, most of them stepping over to give Steve a hug-slash-shoulder-clap. 

“Tío Bucky,” Luis says, his own Resident Gabacho Scott standing next to him, “you and Steve shacked up?!”

“Technically we’ve always been living together,” Bucky points out, slapping Luis’ arm, “but yeah now we’re dating.”

Steve just grins back, “Hey Luis, how’s school going?”

Luis just shakes his head, “Bio-chem kicking my ass, you know how it is, but at least I got Scott helpin me out!”

“Where’s Cassie?” Bucky asks Scott, noticing she’s not running around with th rest of the kids.

Scott just shrugs, “With her mom, she’s got a cold.”

Steve opens his mouth, probably about to tell Scott all the ways to remedy her cold, when Bucky’s mom and Becca appear at their sides. 

“Not going to introduce me to Steve as your boyfriend?” His mom asks, looking at Steve from behind her glasses, “Aye mijo, I thought I taught you better manners than that.”

Bucky just rolls his eyes, “Mom, Becca,” he nods to her, “you all know Steve as my roommate, but now he’s my boyfriend.” That last word lightens his mood, how can he stay fussy when he gets to call Steve his boyfriend? He can’t, not when he only has a night to live in it. 

Steve lets go of his hand to give his mom a hug, pecking her on either cheek, “Nice to see you again, Miss Granero.” 

She pats Steve’s clean-shaven cheek, “Ever the gentleman, Steve, maybe you could teach our Jamie a thing or two.”

Bucky rolls his eyes again, “I’m polite, ma, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think she means just that,” Becca says, pulling Steve in for a hug, “thanks for coming, Steve, it’s always nice seeing you.”

“Everything looks great,” Steve says, pulling away from the hug, “your daughter looks nice in her poufy dress.”

Becca laughs, “We all had a dress like that for our quince, she couldn’t be happier that most people came in matching colors.”

Steve looks down at his shirt, then back at Bucky, “I had a little help on the shirt.”

Bucky grins, “He’s never had a reason to wear such a bright color.” He doesn’t get why men are so afraid of color and tight clothes. Latino men fully embrace neon, pastels, and shirts a couple sizes too small. 

“Speaking of matching,” Becca says, her brown eyes flicking to Bucky, “Can I speak to you for a sec?” 

Bucky looks between Steve and his mom, figuring Steve’ll be fine, and goes with Becca.

“What happened?” He hooks his arm with hers, walking slowly to take account the ball gown she has on. 

“You and Steve look really happy,” She starts, leading him away from the group towards the changing room in the back, “but you know if he hurts you we will hurt him?”

“Aye Becca,” Bucky sighs, taking his hat off as they step into the room, and throws himself down on the couch, “don’t worry so much.”

She leans against the wall, crossing her arms, “Do you care for him?”

“Do I care for him?” Bucky asks, slightly outraged because how does nobody else see it with the heart he has on his sleeve, “I love the guy,” he says softer, looking Becca in the eyes, “he’s the nicest, sweetest person I know. He cares for what he believes in, cares for the people he takes of, and...” Bucky trails off, “and I think he cares for me.” It’s not a lie, not something he made up for their pretend relationship, but the truth. Steve takes time out of his long hours to ask him how his day is, to talk about inane shit with him while they’re both dead on their feet, to sit with him in silence on days where he had to administer euthanasia on a family’s beloved pet. They’re both there for each other in more ways than one, it’s just not romantic, and aside from this night it will probably never be. 

“I’m just looking out for you,” Becca sighs, “don’t want you to end up like me.”

Bucky pushes himself up from the couch and pulls his sister into a hug, “Don’t worry, I won’t top your abilities to pick the suckiest men on the planet.” 

She snorts, slapping him on the back of the head, “Pinche Jamie, I was trying to have a moment with you and you ruined it. Put your damn hat back on, it’s almost time for the court to dance.”

Bucky just laughs, gripping his stomach when he moves away from his sister. The Granero family isn’t known for being sentimental. He grabs his hat off the couch, placing it on his head just right, and follows his sister out of the room.

* * *

The night is a whirlwind of fun. The dance he does with the court goes perfectly, the cake is delicious, and he can’t get over how great Steve looks. 

The slow beginning of Dreaming of You by Selena starts, making his sentimental as fuck heart melt. 

Steve turns to him, setting his fork down next to his fourth plate of asada, “Dance with me?”

Bucky’s heart flutters and he has to remind himself this is all a show. Steve’s asking him to dance because he asked him to pretend to be his boyfriend, because he needed to impress his mom, not because he truly wants to. Steve doesn’t know how much this song means to him, it’s just a coincidence. 

“Lead the way, Rogers,” Bucky replies, setting his hand in Steve’s out stretched one. 

They go to the middle of the dance floor, only blue lights illuminating the floor. He sees his niece with Miles slowly dancing, all his family members with their significant others, and decides to let himself live in the moment rather than ruin it for himself. 

Steve pulls him close, one hand on his waist, the other still holding his left hand. They begin swaying slowly to the beat, and Bucky can’t help but look up at Steve from under the brim of his hat. 

“I heard you talking to your sister,” Steve says and Bucky’s stomach drops.

“Oh?” Bucky says in response, wishing he wasn’t in the middle of the dance floor so he could flee the scene. 

Steve hums in response, “Was everything you said true?” Steve asks, still holding him close.

And Bucky decides to fuck it. He’s dancing to Selena, to the song he wants to play at his first dance when he gets married. He feels like he’s in a freakin’ novela right now, but not the kind that end in blood and murder. The kind where the girl gets the guy and they ride off into the sunset on a plot-appropriate horse. 

“Every single word,” Bucky replies, hoping this doesn’t change their relationship for the worse, “I couldn’t lie about that.”

A smile as bright as the sun breaks out on Steve’s face, dorky and toothy and so surprising Bucky doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“I’m sweet on you, Granero,” Steve says, his blush coming through even in the blue flashing lights, “if you wanted to date me all you had to do was ask.”

Bucky’s first response isn’t to praise La Virgen de Guadalupe for this novela-esque moment, but to defend himself, “Hey, mom was pressuring me to bring someone and you’re the first person that came to mind. This wasn’t a ploy or anything, but—”

Steve just laughs, throwing his head back and almost ruining the slow song, “I’m not arguing, Buck, just letting you know that I might love you too.”

This time the words register, and Bucky’s heart just might explode, “Really? Not like the familial sense, but in the hand-holding-kissing sense?

“In the you look very hot in those pants and that hat and I’d really like to take you to bed,” Steve says his voice low, eyes fiery as he looks at Bucky.

Bucky just gulps, not prepared for the intense look Steve gives him, “I’d definitely like that.”

Steve opens his mouth, probably about to respond with something straight out of Bucky’s fantasies, with the loud sound of horns and drums from the speakers cut him off. 

And Bucky can’t help but break out into fits of laughter. 

Steve raises an eyebrow, “Was it something I said? I thought I was doing pretty well with explaining how much you turn me on, Buck.”

Bucky just shakes his head, “Do you know why I moved into the apartment?”

They’ve stopped dancing and a confused look crosses his face, “What? No, I mean—I thought you liked the location and space?”

In tune with Selena Bucky sings “El chico del apartamento cinco doce,” he grins at Steve pulling him closer, “the boy from apartment 512, it’s you, it’s us.”

“You moved into the apartment because of a Selena song?” Steve asks, laughing but incredulous.

Bucky shrugs, grabbing Steve’s hands to do some kind of cha cha with him, “It’s a cute song, you’re a cute guy, I figured why not.”

Steve shakes his head, clumsily following Bucky’s movements, “I guess I owe a lot to Selena, seeing as she’s had a role in two pivotal moments of our relationship.”

“Anything for Salinas,” Bucky jokes, pulling Steve close to kiss him on the lips because now he can do that, “you better make good on your offer from earlier.”

Steve just wiggles his eyebrows, “Oh, don’t worry, I will.”

The moment is ruined by Luis and Scott pulling them apart for the line dance as Carnavalito begins. 

“Come on Bucky!” Luis screams into his ear, “Get your mind out of the gutter and onto the dance floor.”

Bucky looks over to Steve and shrugs, “This is what you signed up for.”

It takes two side skips and a twirl for Steve to reply, “And I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Bucky grins, bumping into Luis on his next side skip, too darn happy to care. 

He’s got Steve, his family, his friends, what more could he want?

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr!](https://sorrowingsoldier.tumblr.com/)
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> If you wanted to promo this fic here's a [post!](https://sorrowingsoldier.tumblr.com/post/184389100555/apartment-512)


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